Haze
by VixonVulpe
Summary: Matthew is the only one left. [PruCan. Mental Illness.]


"Mattie?"

Matthew turned to look up at his older brother. Alfred was squinting at him from behind his glasses, his I 3 NY tee a crumpled mess, not unlike his hair.

"Isn't it a bit early for you to be up?" Matthew asked. Alfred continued to stare at him as if he'd suggested it were snowing in the kitchen. Matthew frowned and squinted back at his brother, wondering if maybe he was getting sick, or if the July heat was starting to get to him. Matthew opened his mouth to ask how the American was feeling, but Alfred blinked shook his head slightly.

"Nah, work starts today." Alfred walked past him and into the kitchen, still talking. "Gotta pay those student loans off somehow. Do we have any poptarts left?"

"No, Gil ate them all," Matthew called back. Gilbert looked up from his pancakes and grinned at Matthew. Matthew kicked him playfully.

"Uh.. what was that, bro?" Alfred reappeared in the dinning room.

"I said Gil ate them." Matthew pointed to the seat to his left. Gilbert waved to Alfred. Alfred squinted again. Matthew squinted back.

"What's the matter, hamburger?" Gilbert quipped. Matthew kicked him again. "Scheisse, Birdie!"

"You're not helping, Gil," Matthew said.

"...Gil's back?" Alfred gave Matthew a weird look. He was starting to look a little pale.

"He's right there," Matthew said. Gilbert smirked and waved again. "You knew he was only going to Germany for a little bit."

Alfred looked over Gil's head for a long moment. Gil made to kick him. Matthew smacked the Prussian's hand.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Alfred asked.

"I wasn't talking to you, Al."

"There isn't anyone else here to talk to, Mattie."

"Hey!" Gilbert barked.

"Al!"

"It's true!" Alfred spat.

Mathew stood up. "You're not being fair!"

"What the hell does that mean?" Alfred huffed.

"Just because you don't get along with him doesn't mean you can act like he's not here!"

"Bro, there's literally no one here but us!"

"I'll show you no one!" Gilbert said, jumping to his feet.

"Gil!" Matthew jumped between them.

"But Birdie- "

"Mattie, stop it! You're acting crazy!"

Alfred!"

"Mattie!"

They glared at one another for a moment, Matthew still trying to keep Gilbert from punching his brother. Something changed in Alfred's expression.

"Is Papa up yet?" he asked after a moment.

"No, but I am." All three looked to the doorway to see Arthur. The Brit looked from one blond to the other, ignoring Gilbert entirely, who huffed at this and took his seat, kicking the chair away from the table instead of pulling it out. Matthew was already starting to get irritated with his father as well. Alfred crossed the room, nearly tripping over a chair, and started mumbling with the oldest blond. Matthew frowned and turned back to the table to take his plate.

"Birdie?" Gilbert watched him.

"If you don't want to eat the rest of that just come put it in the dog bowl. Kuma or Tony will get it." Gilbert nodded and followed him into the kitchen, tipping his plate into the bowl.

"Hosers," Matthew muttered into the sink. Gilbert snorted and came up behind him, setting his now empty plate in the sink and wrapping his arms around the Canadian.

"Ja, that's a good word for them," he laughed softly as he set his chin on Matthew's shoulder. The Canadian slowed his movements for a moment and just leaned into the embrace.

"You don't sound all that mad," he mumbled.

"Can't decide if I should be pissed or pissing about the fact that your brother was so freaked out to see me," Gilbert said. Matthew could feel him smirk. Matthew shook his head.

"I wish he would lay off. He can be such a, a, a..."

"Dick?" Matthew snorted. "Dumbass? Glutton? Blond?"

"Hey!" Matthew shot Gil a mock-offended look. The Prussian just tightened his hold and snuggled deeper into the crook of his neck.

"You know I love you," he apologized, grinning against Matthew's neck. The Canadian shivered when he felt teeth graze his skin.

"Gil..."

"They're still muttering out there. It's fine," the Prussian promised. Matthew had half a mind to give in. But only half.

"No, I have to wash these and then we need to talk with them."

"But I hate talking," Gilbert whined. "No one fucking listens to me anyway."

"I do."

"Yeah, but I'm not arguing with you. Can't we just say fuck them and go out somewhere or something?"

"Matthew?"

Matthew sighed at his father's voice. Gilbert tightened his hold, moving his head away to glare at Arthur. Matthew pried his arms away and turned to face the Brit.

"Yes?"

"Can we talk, please?" Matthew nodded, knowing it wasn't really a question. Arthur waved him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Gilbert leaned against the kitchen counter and scowled.

"Where's Al?" Matthew asked as he sat on the couch. Arthur took the arm chair across from him.

"He's taking a shower. But let's talk about you, Matthew." Arthur looked him over, his eyes guarded. Matthew bit his tongue in irritation, wishing they wouldn't treat him like he was on the verge of a hysterical breakdown.

"Okay. What about me?" Out of the corner of his eye Matthew saw Gil come to lean against the doorway.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked. Matthew blinked and frowned.

"I feel fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Great, actually. Especially since Gil's back." Matthew wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush. He knew Arthur would scold him for his passive-aggressive quip in a different situation. He'd say something about Matthew not being a morning person and taking it out on his family. But the way he was being treated now made it clear he wasn't going to be chastised too harshly. The understanding of this only irritated him further.

"Right..." Arthur stared at him for a while, looking somewhere between worried and pitying. The silence stretched, and out of the corner of his eye Matthew saw Gilbert cross his arms. Matthew waited. Arthur sighed.

"Son, have you been taking your medicine?"

Matthew grit his teeth. "I'm not crazy."

"I didn't say you were," Arthur said softly. Alfred came to the other doorway and stopped when he noticed them. Matthew shot him a look to let him know they'd be talking later. Alfred gave him a stern glance in response.

"Matthew, we've talked about this," his father said. Matthew met his eyes. "You need to take your medication."

"I don't want to," Matthew said. "It just makes me feel bad. It doesn't do anything else. I don't need it."

"Matthew." Arthur took a stern tone. Matthew looked down.

"It's true."

"You need to take your medication, Matthew."

"Bon matin, Alfr- oh, what's going on here?"

Matthew looked up to see the tall Frenchman standing halfway between the couch and the hall entrance. Francis looked around the room at his family members, trying to read the situation.

"Papa-"

"Matthew's stopped taking his medicine," Arthur cut in. Francis raised his eyebrows a fraction and met Matthew's eyes.

"Is this true, cher?"

"It doesn't help me," Matthew repeated. Francis let out a small breath and closed his eyes, the tiniest of sad smiles tugging at his lips. He came to sit beside Matthew.

"Arthur, you'll be late if you don't hurry," he said. The two fathers stared at one another for a long moment, a silent conversation passing between them. Matthew waited, feeling a little more at ease now that his papa was here. He hated to admit it, but he'd always been partial to his French father, unlike Alfred, who swung back and forth depending on his mood and his phase.

Arthur nodded. "Alright. I'll be home around six," he promised as he rose.

"Have a good day, mon coeur," Francis replied. Arthur cast a final cautious glance to Matthew before leaving the room. "You'll be late, too, Alfred," Francis said.

"Nah, I can make," Alfred promised. Francis gave him a look and from the hall Matthew heard Arthur call Alfred. The blond turned to argue and they spoke for a moment before Arthur grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away.

"We're off," Arthur called.

"Au revoir!"

"See ya later bro!"

The sound of the door closing echoed around the house. Gilbert crossed the room and sat on the other side of Matthew, taking his hand. Matthew leaned against him.

"Now, shall we talk?" Francis asked. Matthew sighed.

"I don't think it's a big deal, Papa."

"Non?"

Matthew shook his head. "They just made a mistake."

"All three of the doctors?"

Matthew shrugged. "The medicine doesn't help me with anything. I don't even think there's anything wrong, to be honest." Not with him, at least.

"Matthieu– "

"Please, Papa," Matthew begged. Gilbert wrapped an arm around him and held him closer, mumbling "It's okay, Birdie." Francis met his son's eyes. "Please, just trust me. I don't even have all the 'symptoms' they listed. I don't think the CIA's out to get me, or, or..."

"Hear Old Fritz telling you to burn the house down," Gilbert chipped in.

"Yeah," Matthew nodded. Francis's expression changed.

"Is he here with you?"

Matthew let out an exasperated breath. "Why can't anyone see him anymore?"

"I'm sorry, mon cher," Francis said, reaching out to stroke his cheek. Matthew let him. "I'm sorry," he leaned forward and kissed Matthew's forehead, "but I think it's time to try harder."

Matthew pulled away, his eyes wide. Gilbert growled behind him and pulled Matthew closer.

"You mean... incarceration..."

"I'm sorry." Francis shook his head. He looked like he was going to cry.

Matthew was already tearing up. "No..."

"I'm sorry,"

"No! Papa..." He shook, utter betrayal and heartbreak washing over him.

"I'm sorry," Francis promised, tearing up as well.

Matthew pulled out of Gilbert's grip and ran out the front door, ignoring his father's call of surprise behind him. Gilbert was at his side in a heartbeat.

"Why can't they see you anymore?" Matthew asked, his voice cracking while he tried not to cry too hard. Gilbert shook his head.

"They haven't seen me in a while."

"But why," Matthew panted. It was more of a complaint at this point. Gilbert didn't say anything. Matthew ran into the woods and had to slow slightly to watch where he was going. Eventually he couldn't run anymore and slowed to a walk, panting and leaning against Gilbert. The albino wrapped his arm around him again.

"...Am I crazy?" Matthew whispered, meeting the other's eyes sideways. Gilbert shook his head.

"No way, Birdie."

"But they can't see you," Matthew said. "It's only me."

"Al used to see."

"They gave him medicine and now he thinks I'm crazy." Matthew sighed. He bit his lip and swallowed. "What if I'm crazy, Gil?"

The Prussian stopped and spun Matthew to face him. Matthew's eyes widened at the fire in those red eyes. "You're not fucking crazy!"

"Gil... If you're just my hallucination, I can't trust what you say," Matthew said. He wanted to cry as he saw the hurt that filled the other's eyes. It stung to know he'd hurt Gilbert. It felt like his chest was tightening, making it impossible to breathe.

Gilbert's hands moved to his face as the Prussian kissed him fiercely. Matthew felt himself tear up all over again as he held the man close and returned the kiss with just as much intensity.

When they pulled way, Gilbert laid his head on Matthew's shoulder and held him close.

"You're not crazy, Birdie. You're not crazy and I'm not a hallucination."

"Then what are you?" Matthew whispered.

Gilbert clung to him as though he were the only thing keeping him from disappearing. Matthew could feel him shaking slightly in his arms as he shook his head.

"I don't know, Birdie. I don't know."


End file.
